[MaC] "Now we know..."

[Brian Schoner]

> On the street, Michael didn't hesitate. *Crack*, *crack*, 
> *crack* three shots rang out. He would've aimed low, hoping 
> to just wound him like in those American movies, but the 
> Blitz's rubble obscured too much of the pilot. Center mass, 
> just like they taught in training, in the Great War.

The first shot hit Philip in the shoulder, hard; it didn't drop him
immediately, but it knocked his left side forward so he was starting to spin
as the second bullet hit him squarely in the back. The third bullet missed,
but only because Philip had already begun to drop to the rubble-strewn
pavement; it struck a building opposite and caromed harmlessly into the
pavement.

> As soon as the third shot left the pistol, the Group
> Commander was running again, the pistol still in hand.

When he arrived, Philip was down. The blood was bright red, most of it;
probably a lung wound, then. Philip was gasping for breath with no apparent
success, and his eyes settled on Michael's after a few moments. There was no
anger in the eyes, no hatred, just confusion and regret. 

Philip took a deep breath, in obvious pain, and tried to say something, but
instead he simply died.